New Neighbours
by YourLocalIgor
Summary: Chaos descends upon 221B with the arrival of 2 new tenants. How will the boys deal with the eccentrisities of the new lodgers and there strange habits? OC based, NOT SLASH!
1. Moving in

**Ok now I know that I should be working on my other story but I am suffering with writers block in that fandom and recently I have been hooked on BBC's 'Sherlock'. Therefore I am going to attempt to get out of this writing funk by trying something entirely different! This story is going to be based around an OC and the chapters are going to be short (possibly all drabbles like this one) and hopefully quite regular. So without further ado here it is!**

New Tenants

Sherlock Holmes sat at the window and watched as the employees from the moving company hefted a soft brown leather sofa up the front steps of 221B Baker Street. There had been people coming and going for the last two weeks as things arrived and the basement and fourth floor flats were redecorated and refurnished with the new tenants' old possessions. Sherlock frowned at the racket being made as the workmen attempted to manoeuvre a piano down the narrow stairs to the basement.

The detective had no doubt that these tenants would be dull. Ordinary people were always so boring.

**Thanks for reading, feedback is, as always, appreciated so please review and let me know what think.  
>Last thing I want to say is I hope everyone had a great Christmas and a happy New Year! Have a good one!<strong>

**Love Igor xx**


	2. Smoke part I

Smoke part 1

John was walking down the landing to his bedroom when he smelt it, that unmistakeable odour. He had always hated that smell but luckily it had never been around 221B before, so why could he smell it now. He knew that there was work being done on a couple of the other flats, maybe it was one of the removal company employees. But why then would he be able to smell it here on the third floor when it was the basement and fourth floors that were being renovated?

A sudden thought occurred to John which sent him hurtling back down the stairs to check on Sherlock. However his fears were not founded as, upon entering their flat he found Sherlock folded into his armchair, hand clasped in front of his mouth. John could see six nicotine patches stuck firmly to his friends arm.

"Six patches, I didn't know we were on a case." He commented raising an eyebrow at the consulting detective.

"We aren't, but can't you _SMELL _that?" Sherlock leapt from his chair and began striding around the apartment. It was true even here john could smell it, only faintly but still it was there.

John found himself wandering over to the partially open window, it wasn't an unusually warm day for the beginning of January but they had opened the window to let out some of the heat that was being produced by the temporarily increased population of interior decorators inside 221B.

John was surprised to see a young woman standing on the street chatting to one of the movers, the source of the smell held in one hand.

"Sherlock…" he began, in a moment the taller man was looking out of the window as well. He made a noise of slight disgust before turning and heading out of the flat and down the stairs. John followed quickly hoping to divert any unpleasant scene that Sherlock may cause.

**Ok so I fully appreciate that you have probably all guessed what it is that is causing **_**the smell **_**but bear with me, it is kind of important to the plot, you will find out why in the next chapter! I know I said this is an OC story and I promise that you will meet the girls (or at least one of them) in the next chapter. Also if anyone is actually reading this please make your presence known through reviews and such like… please, I'd love to hear from you!**

**Igor xx**


	3. Smoke part II

Smoke part 2

Sherlock went down the familiar 17 stairs and seconds later he was outside on the pavement in front of 221B, John hot on his heels. The young woman holding the source of that overpowering odour didn't notice them and as was his habit Sherlock found himself observing her in the moments it took to cross the few meters between them.

Sherlock deduced that she was 25, slim, about 5'7" with mid back length, wavy, brunette hair and brown eyes. She was of British lineage, with the slightest hint of the West Country in her voice despite the clipped English accent. She was well dressed in black tights and a long, thick cream jumper which was covered against the slight chill with a calf length black frock coat. However what really captured the detective's attention was the way in which she smoked. She had her right arm crossed over her body using her hand to support the elbow of the other arm. The object of Sherlock mission was held languidly between the first two fingers of her left hand.

As Sherlock and John watched the young woman moved the offending cigarette to her mouth and took a pull on it. Moving it away from her mouth she let out a plume of smoke, even Sherlock had to admit that her technique was impressive, she smoked a cigarette as if she had a grudge against it.

All this observation had taken seconds as the two men crossed to where she was standing. The brunette looked up as they approached and smiled,

"Hello, you must be my new neighbours. Can I help you with anything?" she finished as she took in the look of annoyance on Sherlock's face. The detective opened his mouth to reply but John, sensing danger got there first,

"Yes, um, hello, nice to meet you; I don't suppose you could smoke that somewhere else could you?"

"Sure," she replied a little surprised by the request, "I didn't mean to offend…"

"Oh, no, it's just the windows are open and…"

"What John's trying to say is: I find it hard to stay committed to quitting when there is cigarette smoke fumigating our apartment." Sherlock extended his hand and gave her one of his most sarcastic smiles. Much to John's amazement and pleasure the pretty young woman's reply came back in an instant, flooring Sherlock who had obviously not been expecting such a quick come back,

"Oh I'm so _sorry_ because naturally, I positioned myself under your window just to piss you off." Sherlock seemed to be eyeing up the woman with something bordering on respect,

"I see sarcasm comes included."

"Sarcasm, I was just being flippant, but I can do sarcastic if you like." The woman took a long pull on her cigarette, closing her eyes. When she opened them again she had a different expression on her face, "Sorry, this isn't the way I wanted to introduce myself. I'm not normally this rude." She gave them an apologetic smile, "I'm Marley King and I hope you can excuse my terrible manners and hideous choice in smoking locations." This time Marley held out her hand and John was surprised when Sherlock took it,

"Sherlock Holmes, this is my friend and colleague Dr John Watson."

Marley shook Johns hand too as she stubbed out her cigarette with the tow of her shoe,

"The two of you should pop down some time for a cup of tea or something; well, I'd better be off need to go check on the piano I think they had some problems getting it down the stairs yesterday." And with one last blinding smile Marley King, the first of the new tenants disappeared through the front door of 221B Baker Street.

**Well there we go chapter 3 is up and running, hope you enjoyed it! I want to give my thanks to all the people who have favourited (I don't think that is a word, Microsoft Word says it's not but oh well) this story and/or put it on alert. Also to much love to **_**aandm20**_** and **_**Lestat's Violinist**_** for reviewing!**

**Also just thought, I don't know how widespread the expression "West Country" is when referring to the UK. For anyone who doesn't know and is interested the West Country is the south west of England, around where Bristol is if you look on a map (It also happens to be where I live )! I just thought I'd mention it, just in case! **

**Any thoughts are appreciated,  
>Love<br>Igor xx**


	4. Feet in the Fridge

John sighed again as he looked at the feet in the fridge. How was it that Sherlock could remember get feet for and experiment but seemed incapable of remembering to go and get milk? Honestly you would think that the number of times they had run out of milk since they had moved into this flat maybe, just maybe, Sherlock would have got it through his thick skull that they were always in need of…

John's internal ramble was cut off as a shriek issued up from downstairs,

"Why didn't you _tell _me?" Sherlock's head appeared from behind his armchair inquisitive eyes peering towards the stairway. There were more shrieks as John took a tentative step towards the stair and slowly the pair made their way down to the street.

It was as they came down those familiar 17 stairs to the main hall of 221b Backer street that the duo saw the sauce of the commotion. Standing in the doorway were two women. One was Marley, their cigarette smoking, piano playing neighbour, the other was unfamiliar. She was a little shorter that Marley, about 5'2" and about the same age, she was of a similar complexion and her hair was the same shining shade of chestnut.

It was her eyes however that fascinated John, they were huge and they shined. He had heard the old expression that the eyes were the window to the soul but he had never given any credit to that theory, especially not after meeting Sherlock who could stop his eyes from showing anything; but now standing there at the bottom of the stairs he was beginning to see what people meant. This young woman's eyes shone out of her face, bright and cheerful as she smiled at Marley. They were the deep swirling colour of molten chocolate and he could imagine that if he was to get up close the depths of them would be interspersed with shots of gold like sunlight through gaps in a canopy of leaves.

John was so lost in his contemplation of the woman in the door way that he almost didn't notice Marley turning towards him and Sherlock and beginning to introduce them,

"Riane, this is Dr John Watson and Mr Sherlock Holmes, they live on the second floor. Guys this is my sister, Riane King." John mentally shook himself from the stupor and took Riane's proffered hand,

"It's wonderful to meet you both." She smiled again before releasing his hand and to shake Sherlock's hand. The rest of the conversation was a blur for John as he frantically tried to quash the very, _very_ bad thought that had just crossed his mind.

"I see you're an artist."

No, it wasn't allowed, he had just broken up with Sarah…

"Yes, how did you know?"

…She was far too young for him…

"Oh no please don't ask him that!"

…She had her whole life in front of her…

"You just moved out of your ex-boyfriend's flat,"

…Oh no…

"but didn't tell your sister where you were moving to."

…Nonononononononono…

"That right, I'm completely unattached aside of course from Marley!"

…Sod it…

"John are you ok?"

…he could _not_ have a crush on the woman in the flat above…

"John? Can you hear me?"

…But apparently he did…

"What yeah, I'm fine, just… thinking."

…Crap.

**Right, sorry that took so long! It's not as good as I'd have liked it to be but I've been super busy this half term and I needed a way to let off some steam after writing a 15 minute talk for my English oral presentation on Tuesday, and this was the best way I could think of to relax! **

**By the way Riane is dedicated to my best bud Flora (I hope you like your eyes!) and her name is pronounce Ryan like a guy's name incase that was causing confusion (I tried to fit that in somewhere but it didn't seem to want to go)! If there is anything else you want to know just drop me a line in a review or PM me. I'd be really grateful if you would review just to let me know what you think, I'm still not convinced by John's reaction but having rewritten about five times I can't think how he would react, so any feedback is appreciated!**

**Thanks,  
>Igor xx<strong>


	5. Music Sweet Music

**Ok so this is just a chapter that happened during in a free period at school, I'm in the process of writing another chapter as we speak but I thought this needed to go up first.**

Music sweet music

The sound crept through the house, floating along the corridor, breathing into the dark, quiet spaces. It was soft and unassuming, gently flowing around the furniture and clustering like mist in the corners of the rooms. The sound trickled up the stairs to the higher floors, rising through the floors like warm, comforting steam. It cradled the heads of John Watson and Mrs Hudson as it passed, kissing their foreheads and tucking them in, ensuring that their slumber remained content and happy, untroubled by the monsters that plagued their everyday lives.

But not everyone was immune to the soft melody as it rose through the house, Sherlock sat in his armchair and listened to the strains of music being emitted from the piano in the basement flat. He had heard it twice at this time of the night, both times since Riane had moved in. This had lead him to deduce that Marley had surrendered her bed to her sister until Raine's new bed was delivered and was sleeping on the sofa. This arrangement caused her some difficulty in sleeping and so she took to playing soothing music in an attempt to lull herself to sleep.

Sherlock knew that eventually the music would stop, probably so that the performer could finally sleep (he had no data to prove this theory), but until then he would simply sit and enjoy the music.

**Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed it. If you did (or even if you didn't) I'd be grateful if you would review, all I'm asking for is thirty seconds of your time to tell me what you think, that's all nothing fancy just a "Yes, I liked this…" or "No you could improve this…" It would be really great if you could do that for me, I really does help with updating, I promise!**

**Ta  
>Igor xx<strong>


	6. Only crying 'coz she is

**Hello yes tis I, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. All I shall say here is: sorry this took me so long (although I'm not sure if anyone noticed I was gone) and without further ado, enjoy.**

Only crying 'coz she is

John was making his way up the stairs to the 4th floor flat; it had become completely normal for Marley or Raine to be found not only in each other's flats but also in Sherlock and John's flat as well. It was slowly becoming more normal for John to spend the evening up at Riane's, which seemed to be a communal living room/studio where anyone was invited to pass the evening before heading off to bed.

As John reached the door he heard the strains of music coming from the telly. As he entered the room, he saw the backs of Riane and Marley sitting on the sofa. He watched as Riane untangled her arm from where it was around her sister's shoulders and reached for something on the sofa between them. There was the sound of two tissues being pulled from a box, Riane handed Marley one and raised the other to her face. There was the sound of Marley blowing her nose as John made his way into their line of sight,

"Hey, what's on?" He asked, tactfully not mentioning their tears. Marley looked up whilst Riane tried to hide her tears behind her sister,

"Oh, um, we put the Titanic memorial on." She sniffed,

"Mind if I join you?" she shook her head and shuffled sideways so that there was more room. They sat through the rest of the program and John too found his eyes misting over at some of the stories about the great ships last moments. The bravery of the musician who stayed on board until the ship went down, playing even as the water lapped around his knees, the arrogance of having too few life boats because the boat was thought unsinkable, the stupidity of not building the bulkheads properly.

Eventually it ended, Marley was shaking with suppressed sobs and Riane's face was wet with tears. Marley reached out and turned the telly off, for a few moments the three of them sat there in silence. Suddenly a voice broke through their stillness,

"Why are you all sitting here crying?" Sherlock's voice seemed to break the spell that hung over them,

"It was a sad program Sherlock." Marley's voice was thick from crying. Riane turned to look at the consulting detective and sniffed,

"I'm only crying 'coz she is." She grinned and the tense atmosphere shattered as everyone laughed.

**Thanks for making it this far, I know this isn't great but I needed to write something in honour of the occasion. The memorial program really got to me, I was a blubbering wreck after about a minute and a half! Anyway I have no excuse for not writing for so long other than History coursework and a depressing lack of inspiration. That and I have recently been hooked on "Good Omens" by Pratchett and Gaiman (go hence and read the holy writings if thou hast not already done so) so once again, apologies, as always reviews and constructive criticisms are cherished. Now my laptop is about to die so I shall bid you adieu until next time!**

**Live long and prosper (wait, wrong fandom!),  
>Igor xx<br>EDIT: Oh dear, I've just been through and re-read this to take out all of the typos and such. I am sorry I subjected you to this, I think it is proof that trying to write something sad and moving at one in the morning is not advisable.  
>Igor xx<strong>


	7. Writer

**I'm on a roll 2 chapters in as many days, what is this? Again it's not as good as i'd like but then they mever are so I'll just have to live with it. I hope you enjoy!**

Writer

Sherlock had hit a wall. He had tried various techniques in order to get past it, so far none had worked.

He had not had a case for several days now and in desperation John had convinced Lestrade to give Sherlock some cold cases to alleviate the boredom (and save Mrs Hudson's wall). The first two cases had been a breeze, hardly worthy of his talents; the last case, however, was something of a mental workout. All of the leads had come to a dead end and that had been where the wall started; so far Sherlock had tried backtracking over everything he had looked at, in case he had missed something. He hadn't. Now he was trying to approach the situation from a slightly different angle.

That was how Marley found him half an hour later, on a break from working. He was sat with his back pressed to the floor, his long legs trailed up against his armchair, feet resting against the seat. He didn't look up as she entered, or as she crossed the room to stand next to him. He did spare her a sideways glance when she lay down next to him and placed her feet in the same position. For some time they sat there in silence regarding the ceiling,

"Case giving you grief?" Marley asked eventually, turning her head to look at him. Sherlock didn't answer, but the look he gave her said quite plainly: _Cases don't_ "give me grief" _I am simply thinking, now shut up. _She did.

More time passed and Sherlock was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate with Marley sitting so close to him. Her perfume was infiltrating his thoughts like some kind on noxious gas; it smelled light and fresh, a scent full of spring flowers. It reminded him distinctly of the kind of spring one only found in the countryside, the kind that had real lambs and chicks, rather than cardboard cut outs of them surrounding the Easter bunny that arrived in shops in early February.

Sherlock mentally smacked himself; he couldn't afford distractions, even on a cold case like this one. He was about to tell Marley to leave when she sat up, propping herself on her elbows a look of delight on her face,

"I've got it!" she exclaimed, delighted laughter issued from her lips as she flopped back onto the floor. Sherlock watched her push her hips into the air, balancing her weight between her shoulders and her elevated legs. A small rebellious part of his mind, that was telling him how nice distractions could be, noted the creamy patch of skin, between the top of her jeans and the bottom of her jumper, that was revealed as she fought to get a brown leather bound notebook from the front pocket of the trousers,

"I've been struggling with the M.O for my killer for weeks and I've just got it!"

That Marley was writer, Sherlock had already deduced. What she wrote had proved to be an entirely different problem to solve, he had never seen any books with her name on them in either her flat or Riane's. There was the possibility that she wrote under a pseudonym but he had never worked out which of the hundreds of well loved book scattered between the sisters' flats were Marley's. It was one problem that he had yet to devote serious time to unravelling.

Marley suddenly stood, she had been scribbling in her notebook for several minutes whilst Sherlock sat watching her. Now however she stood and looked down at him, for a moment Sherlock pretended to ignore her but when she cleared her throat he looked her straight in the eye, marshalling his expression into one of unconcerned boredom,

"Look Sherlock, I know you wanted me to leave about twenty minutes ago – no one cane frown that much and just be thinking about a case," He lowered his raised eyebrow, "but thanks for letting me stay. I've been trying to sort this out killer out all month, he's been a real pain in the arse, but I can start the book now, so I'll be out of your hair for a while." She smiled again and hurried in the direction of her flat.

Sherlock frowned at her retreating back from his inverted position, he felt oddly lopsided lying there on the floor. He got up and moved to the sofa. Better. The vacant space down his right side where Marley's warmth had been was less noticeable now. He frowned again, the case suddenly felt dull, his concentration was shattered and he didn't feel like working. He needed to do something, something _interesting_.

Downstairs Marley waited for her computer to turn on and smiled as the sound of bullets hitting the wall carried down to her.

**As I said up at the top, this isn't as good as I'd like it to be. That may partly be due to the fact that this started life as an introduction to Marley and Riane's family. How I got to her I am not entierly sure, but I think I let the plot bunnies get out of hand! As per normal I really do love getting feedback (and I knoe there are at least a few people reading this, you have no excuse!) also this is not beta-ed so if you spot any typos in this or any of the other chapters please, please, please let me know, I hate having typos in a story thats up here but I don't always spot them when I proof read my onw work!**  
><strong>Thanks for getting this far, I love you all,<strong>  
><strong>Igor xx<strong>


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